"Mmm...Green goblin butt..."
A warm bed, a lover (no matter how non-human) at his side, and the heat of the hearth. A thick curvy goblin girl in his arms as a pillow, food in his belly, and freedom in his heart.
What else could Theo want?
They the craziest celebration, combined with the kinks of the goblin girl and some enchanted wine, the human boy had gone from a scared escapee into a male bull-minotaur on full moon. Still, as the drug wore off, his loins ached after banging the squat green fucktoy for days...On the couch, in the bedroom, in the kitchen, and everywhere possible, they fucked, rutted, had sex and did all the things a man fresh out of puberty and into the harsh life could dream of! Now the goblin shortstack was bundled on his lap. Sighing, he hugged her, feeling the soft texture of generous monster girl ass. Her green curvy goblin body felt like the ultimate pillow, sex toy, and lover.
A sigh echoed; a waft of feminine smell and soft cheek rubbed his chin, a pointy, elastic ear tickling his nose.
"Is it morning already?" Gilly the goblin sighed, her legs rubbing on his, when Theo spooned her in sleep. Turning her head, she already saw his face changing from the comfortable, easy life for a few days.
His face looked brighter, more alive; bags under his eyes had disappeared. Already his eyes were brighter, his movements and actions less awkward. Last night he had shed virtually every last of his awkwardness, and even before their usual nightly sexual adventures, had become much less...deranged.
His face had become a mask of serenity, finally finding a village full of monster girls to love and settle down. A village with monster girls that would not look down on him, or attack him or enslave him.
The humans in the village named Nidavellir was just as kind as the monsters: He, a blood mage, was not hated or cast out.
They took her in, let him eat, make love, meet, have sex and mingle without a whiplash of the Reik's slavers, or Lescatie's beatings.
Would he have peace?
Well reader, if you were hoping for Theo's peaceful ending, you haven't been paying attention. We all know what happened a year later that triggered *another* world war.
**
"I'll take a walk." Theo smiled, finishing his toast. Gilly smiled wordlessly, kissing his lips one last time before setting off for work.
"Ok! I'll be in my workshop!"
Kissing Gilly one last time, he left her house to wander freely, talk to other monster girls and men, and to mingle. It was a bright morning with many people outside. A stall with a centaur lady selling fruits mingled with a goblin's trinket store, the green, squat goblin lady heckling potential buyers about her recipes and amulets.
The voices of monster girls, some thick, some sweet and some shrill, was music to Theo's ears. After all the abuse he went through, he saw all races as equals here, only their merit separating them. Some greeted him warmly, some warily. Here he saw his merits judged by eyes and ears, his opinion counted, his words listened to.
It was so beautiful, a monster girl town dug inside the earth, illuminated by witch fires and magical lanterns. Near the Dark Elf district, a celebration was afoot: Theo approached with a light stride, eating a sausage sandwich; Hellhound girls named them Hot Dogs in honor of their trade.
A circle of elf, goblin and Faun girls was dancing and singing around a fire. The Dark Elf, a young girl dressed in thick, brown robes reminiscent of Druids of old, sang in an ancient language:
Wack fol'a day diddle dee dye doe
Je le len 'o je le la le len 'o
Fiddle daddle day diddle dee dye doe
Ho de fee ra huri!
Wack fol'a day diddle dee dye doe
Je le len 'o je le la le len 'o
Fiddle daddle day diddle dee dye doe
Ho de fee ra huri!
Theo clapped to the music as men and monster, woman and monster danced around a circle, clapping and twirling. A werewolf girl danced with his lover, tail wagging like mad as they danced, kissed and twirled to the music.
Someone whistled with all his might, and the music took a new frenzy, the people dancing and twirling with the tune with wild shouts.
**
To the south, a small human warband was resting amongst the trees. A scout dashed inside the Inquisitor Aurelia Arzama's tent.
"Inquisitor Arzama. We picked up trails of foraging. Apparently, there is a hidden settlement up north, four days, five tops."
The armored woman was pleased with the report, polishing her sword with gusto. Her blonde hair was tied in a thick braid behind her head, blue eyes flashing in a dark, hateful glare to whatever she was doing.
Her beauty was murdered by hate, by circumstances, she could not choose.
"You have done well, Janus."
She did not look up, dismissing him.
"Tell the camp we move at first light. The Warlock must suffer.
It felt like an unfinished business. And it would be good.
**
The monster districts were lovely, separate homesteads underground.
A network of caverns was dug by Ant-Girl clans, fashioned into beautiful homes of basalt and rock. Theo felt like wandering at east, exploring the beautiful streets of witch fire and magical lanterns.
When the music changed, Theo decided to walk further, exploring the homes of the race he was ravaged by.
It felt strangely serene: He half expected to hate them, kill them for what they did to his kin.
But these were not the race he fought, killed and slaughtered. These were the libertarians, the ones who forsook all tyranny, espoused no government but local, individualist ones and freedom for all, slavery abolished in their commune.
He felt strangely empty.
"I can't kill these. I don't want to."
He looked down, sighing.
"Good day!"
A young, gentle-looking dark elf female with a strange hat passed him by. He found himself greeting her back, even shaking her hand. Her hand felt soft, tender to his own. She simply went her own way, leaving him confused.
He was weaker now, feeling empty after a revenge long taken...What now?
Of course, being Fate's toy, he would find a renewed fire in his heart when he passed a small house.
"Kha'yun! We are buying groceries. Can you stoke the oven?
Kha'yun.
Did he hear that correctly? Peeking through the window, he saw him.
Kha'yun. One of the last male Dark Elves. Guard of the slave mines. Could this be true? Could it?
He saw him, his face with the blue eyes, his trademark hair cut.
It was him.
